Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Meg is hard to shop for in the sense that, far more often than not, the minute that she decides that she wants something – be it flashcards for her licensure exam or a new pair of heels – she buys it.

There is not a person in this world who I know better than I know Meg, so shopping for her is still fairly easy. All I have to do is come up with something that she’ll like and want before she knows that she likes and wants it.

On her last birthday, for example, I had a thought that went something like this: she likes soccer, she plays soccer, her soccer cleats are at least 4 years old, she likes Puma, she thoroughly enjoys bright and unexpected color combinations (especially on her shoes). And then I bought her a pair of teal and hot pink Puma cleats. And she thought they were fabulous.

My brainstorming for this Christmas went something like this: she likes sweats, she wears sweats to school, she is going into a profession in which sweats are acceptable, she likes hockey, she plays hockey, she coaches hockey. And then I went online and bought her the perfect pair of sweats from a hockey company. They cost way more than I would ever want to pay for a pair of sweats, but they were absolutely perfect for Meg. They even use skate laces as the ties. Love them.

Loved them.

Loved the idea of them, anyway, because I never received them.

Because yesterday, 10 days after placing the order, I get an email saying “oh, sorry. We’re actually out of stock?”

10 days? What? It took your company 10 days to get someone to look at your inventory and determine that, actually, there aren’t any mediums left.

I was so angry.

Because, at this point, Meg’s lengthy Christmas list has been stripped bare and I really didn’t want to go to the nearest sporting goods store and buy her a generic, lame and also somewhat overpriced pair of Under Armour sweats – which she would love, yes, but is completely lacking in originality.

And, as I have been a touch sensitive (read: batshit crazy) these last few weeks, I was a total mess. Completely without even the slightest decent idea. Too nervous to trust another online retailer. Makeup. Shoes. A fabulous dress that she doesn’t need but would really like. So many possibilities and I hated every single one of them.

In order to solve the problem, I pouted the rest of the afternoon. And then I called and ranted to my mom. And then I bitched to Lucy, who I had called for an entirely different reason.

And then I sucked it up, took a risk and went to the running store. Where I found what I believe is an acceptable alternative.

Then I picked up the last of my cousin Danielle’s gift, a few stocking stuffers for Mom and a package of hair ties.

0
comments:

Hi. I'm A.

Born, raised, educated in the Midwest, I am such a Midwesterner. So Midwestern, if you will.

I am: a blogger of 8+ years, forever searching for my next athletic challenge, hopelessly overscheduled and always, always eating.

I started So Midwestern right after I graduated from college, hoping to chronicle my transition to adulthood. Graduate school, four half marathons, two new nephews, three apartments, a trip to Africa, a sprinkle of heartbreak, dozens of unfinished knitting projects, four turns as a bridesmaid, 8,913 job applications and two full-time positions later: I’m fairly convinced that the day when I feel like a legitimate, full-fledged grownup will never come. So I’ll just keep on blogging.

I write about a little bit of everything and a lot of nothing. Toss my ramblings with a few pictures, a touch of swearing and an endless appreciation for the beauty that is David Beckham and you have So Midwestern. Welcome.